In shadows where the wild things play, Beneath the boughs of ancient trees, The breath of nature weaves its song, A melody that brings me ease. Each rustling leaf tells tales of time, Of spirits dwelling in the shade, In the heart of the forest’s rhythm, Life’s halcyon serenade. Here I find my solace waiting, As the night enfolds the earth, In the pulse of each soft whisper, I discover endless worth.

• Marina Tsvetaeva